


Strong as Glass

by firegrilled



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Slow Burn, Sylvain Jose Gautier's Father's Bad Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26620546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firegrilled/pseuds/firegrilled
Summary: "Its fitting, don't you think? Someone like me getting done in by disease caused by love." Sylvain mused, ignoring the looks of horror from his friends."It's idiotic!" Felix disagreed, still seething from his friend's choice. "If you crave death then allow me to make it swift. Or better yet, confess to whatever cheap harlot has your heart.""Hey, some of those harlots were quite expensive, thank you," Sylvain shook his head, still wearing his fake smile. "Besides, that isn't as poetic of a death."---Or the story where Sylvain develops hanahaki for his childhood friend, and despite being able to help all his friends, remains incapable of helping himself.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Mercedes von Martritz, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 76





	1. A Good Day to Die

The dull sounds of orchestral music and conversations echoed into the small, private bathroom. They provided a nice ambience while Sylvain ruffled his red hair. The tip of his tongue peaked out between his lips while he focused on finding the right balance between disheveled and neat. Once satisfied with his handiwork, he nodded in approval as he took in his full attire for the evening. Between the slim pants, white button down, matching formal jacket, and a small cape bearing the colors and crest of House Gautier, Sylvain felt overdressed yet ready for the night to come.

“At least I’ll look dashing for my final public appearance,” Sylvain commented to no one in particular, a practiced smile appearing in the mirror. As he prepared to leave, a familiar sensation caught in his throat.

Sylvain bent over the sink, and allowed himself to cough loudly. It took a few before the blockage in his throat dislodged. A complete flowery blossom landed in the porcelain sink along with a bit of Sylvain’s blood. A red rose sat amongst the crimson droplets.

“Oh lovely, now it has thorns,” Sylvain commented, bringing a hand to his sore throat. It glowed green from healing magic as he soothed his own internal wounds. Next he placed both his hands over his chest and focused on a stronger spell to get his lungs.

After a few seconds Sylvain felt his body no longer screaming at him and took out a handkerchief. While drying the blood from his lips he observed the rose. He tossed the bloody rag into a nearby bin and gingerly picked up the flower. Unlike his previous blossoms this actually held together.

Frowning at the rose for only a moment, Sylvain turned on the water to wash away the evidence of his disease. He was about to toss the flower when he got a morbid idea. With a smirk, he cleaned the flower of any blood and dried it with a towel. He took a pin from his outfit, one meant to keep his lapel in place, and used it to fasten the rose to his jacket.

“Perfect. If I gotta cough these things up I might as well make use of it once,” Sylvain chuckled to himself.

With that he left the bathroom and began his descent down into the ballroom of the royal castle in Fhirdiad. He didn’t fight a war to unite the land and nearly die trying for nothing. For one last time he would enjoy himself.

While Sylvain listened to the clack of his steps on the stone, his thoughts drifted to his classmates and inevitably the one who was the source of his problems. Memories of what Sylvain considered the beginning of his wonderful problem filled his head.

\---

Thunder echoed around the camp, rain pelting the freshly victorious soldiers. They defeated the bandits and successfully secured the Lance of Ruin for the church. All that remained was celebrating and writing up a report of what happened when a non-crest bearer used one of the Holy Relics.

Sylvain broke away from the celebration to grab some a spade. He made it all of ten feet from the tool wagon before someone clearing their throat stopped him.

“What are you doing and where are you going?” Felix’s voice froze Sylvain in place.

Sylvain paused midstride, one hand in front of him and another clutching a shovel. He looked like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar for a split second. 

Felix blinked and found Sylvain’s usual mask back on.

“Oh, uh… Nothing and nowhere?” Sylvain lied through his teeth.

Felix narrowed his eyes, stepping out of his tent. He didn’t wear his jacket but he still had his undershirt and uniform more or less intact.

“In the dead of night right after a battle? You’re a terrible liar. You’re going to bury _him_ , aren’t you?”

With a roll of the eyes, Sylvain nodded.

“It’s the least I can do for him,” Sylvain confirmed. “We’re leaving in the morning and I know my dad won’t give him a proper burial.”

“That’s more than he deserves,” Felix disagreed. “Not even five hours after you killed him and your guilt is already kicking in?”

Sylvain furrowed his brow and shook his head.

“Everyone deserves to be laid to rest properly, even Miklan.”

Felix began to walk towards Sylvain, his hands at his side. Memories of Glenn ran through his mind but he quickly set those aside.

“Then let’s be done with this. We have a long march tomorrow.”

“We?” Sylvain asked, unable to contain the surprise in his voice. He barely acknowledged Felix as he stood alongside him now.

“Yes, we. You’re going to have a hell of time trying to move his rotten corpse without me.”

For the first time in quite a while Sylvain gave Felix a smile, a genuine one that seemed to reach his eyes. It wasn’t one of those fake one Sylvain reserved for his many trysts and unsuspecting women.

“I appreciate the help but let’s not speak ill of the dead until he’s in the ground. He was my brother.”

Felix rolled his eyes at that.

“He threw you in a well and left you to die.”

Sylvain’s smile soured at the memory.

“I didn’t say he was a good brother.”

“You sure there aren’t any wells around here? We can return the favor and be done with this so much faster.”

The deadpan delivery and perfectly Felix response caught Sylvain off guard. Laughter bubbled up in his chest and threatened to give away his secret mission. He barely covered his mouth in time and almost missed the tiny smirk Felix gave him.

Sylvain should’ve known that when his heart fluttered at the sight of that incredibly rare smirk that his friendship with Felix ran deeper than either knew. 

\---

Sylvain walked out onto the landing just above the great hall, stopping by the railing to admire the sheer size and splendor of it all. What was a barren and dusty area a few days ago now stood in full regal beauty. Tapestries of Faerghus adorned the ceiling, decorations lined the walls, and guests chattered amongst themselves.

From above, Sylvain could identify most of the noble families of Faerghus as well as some relatives of the soldiers who liberated the city a few months prior. Even a few nobles from the former Alliance and remnants of the Empire made appearances.

In the crowd a balding head with red hair stood out, causing Sylvain to wrinkle his nose. The man was wearing a teal sash not unlike Sylvain’s cape and bearing the crest of Gautier. Of course he was chatting with another noble who had a shy daughter just a few feet away. Sick of the sight, Sylvain continued his journey. He passed into the next room where music bounced off the walls.

Sylvain scuttled along the edges of the ballroom where countless of pairs of varying ages danced to the tune in synchronized step. Much to his delight, he found a servant holding a tray with glasses of red wine.

“Excuse me, I’ll take one of those,” Sylvain flagged the girl down, winking at her once she paused. While the girl blushed a color not unlike the drinks she carried, Sylvain plucked a glass. “Thanks, my fair lady.”

The servant nodded quickly, taking the compliment but unable to do much else as Sylvain melded into the crowd.

Sylvain pushed through the nobles until he felt a hand wrap around his wrist.

“Sylvain, there you are!” An excited voice called out to him.

Ashe’s smiling face greeted Sylvain.

Taking a moment to glance over Ashe, Sylvain found him wearing an ill-fitting suit complete with a symbol for Gaspard on his lapel.

“Oh, hey! How are you doing?” Sylvain asked, grinning at his classmate. He stepped out of the mass to join Ashe in his own little space at the edges of the room.

“Me? Enjoying the food Dedue made. It’s simply delicious!”

With a wry smile, Sylvain watched Ashe eat a tiny sandwich from a napkin in his hand.

“I’m sure it is. Personally I was hoping to enjoy some fine wine,” Sylvain informed him. He took a swig from his glass to make a point. “Tastes like grape.”

Ashe rolled his eyes at the ridiculous comment.

“That is what they’re made of, yes. To be honest, I’m a bit surprised you aren't chatting up some noble girl.”

Sylvain almost choked on some wine at that remark.

“Excuse me?!”

Catching Sylvain off guard got a hearty laugh out of Ashe.

“I jest, I jest! Just returning a favor five years later,” Ashe reminded Sylvain.

It took a moment for realization to hit Sylvain like a sack of bricks.

“Did you just hold a grudge?” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “The White Heron Cup was ages ago!”

“Almost feels like yesterday. And it still feels like I’m the awkward school boy watching from the sidelines,” Ashe sighed, his eyes focusing on the dancefloor.

Sylvain followed Ashe’s longing gaze and almost immediately regretted his life choices.

There dancing near the center were Ingrid and Felix, dressed in equally formal yet flamboyant outfits bearing their houses’ colors.

The sight caused Sylvain’s chest to tighten but he restrained himself from wheezing up another flower. If could make it through the war with no one any wiser then he could make it through a gala.

“Admiring the view, I see. Do you need my help again?” Sylvain teased Ashe, earning an offended scoff back. He fought back the itch at the back of his throat as a silly jealousy briefly washed over him.

“I think I can handle myself,” Ashe giggled. He did continue to stare longingly at the pair. “She looks absolutely beautiful tonight…”

Sylvain joined Ashe in his admiration. “Yeah he does.”

“Hm?” Ashe replied, turning his head to face Sylvain.

Sylvain downed the remainder of his wine and set the glass down on a nearby table.

“I said ‘Yeah she does.’ Now come on, let’s join them!”

Returning the favor from earlier, Sylvain grabbed Ashe’s wrist and pulled him out to the dance floor.

“Wah? Sylvain!”

\---

“Ok, ok, what’s so important you couldn’t ask me in the dining hall?” Sylvain wondered, following Ashe to a quiet corner in the courtyard.

“C-can you please teach me to dance properly, like a noble?” Ashe asked, earning a raised eyebrow from Sylvain. The poor boy wouldn’t make eye contact and looked about two shades of red away from matching Sylvain’s hair.

“What?”

Using all his willpower, Ashe met Sylvain’s gaze.

“I need your help. For the White Heron Cup.”

Folding his arms behind his head, Sylvain frowned. “But you aren’t the class rep, that’s Felix’s job. Or punishment as I recall him shouting.”

The memory brought a wide grin to Sylvain’s face.

“T-that’s not it…”

Furrowing his brow, Sylvain puzzled over the odd request.

“Why me? Couldn’t you ask someone like Dedue or Ingrid?”

Ashe let out a deep sigh.

“Dedue is as clueless as I am unfortunately and I can’t ask Ingrid. I’m afraid to ask any of the girls,” Ashe admitted.

Sylvain frowned at that.

“Nonsense! You’re as cute as a button, plenty of noble girls would be willing to help you!”

The embarrassed squeak that escaped Ashe almost had Sylvain in stitches but he exercised some self-control due to his classmate’s frazzled state.

“But I don’t want any noble girl!”

That little outburst caused Ashe to slap a hand over his mouth. He went wide eyed as Sylvain now studied him with a puzzled expression.

“So… you want a boy?”

That thought had Ashe vehemently shaking his head.

“No, that’s not what I mean. Ugh, please don’t tell anyone but I only want one noble girl… And I’d like to dance with her at the Millennium Festival.”

Sylvain’s frown deepened but he dropped his hands to his side.

“I still don’t see why you can’t ask Ingrid or… Oh. Oh? Oh! You want to-!”

Excitement bubbled inside Sylvain as his mind put the pieces together. His jaw fell open as a chill ran down his spine.

“Sylvain, please lower your voice!”

Ashe waved his hands in a panic in front of his chest, horror and embarrassment now written plain as day on his face.

“I get it! No wonder you don’t wanna ask Annie or Mercie… And I guess you’re only other options were Dimitri or Felix. Oof, yeah this all makes sense now,” Sylvain nodded, processing the new information.

“Please keep this to yourself! I don’t want this getting out.”

Seeing the fear in Ashe’s eyes, Sylvain nodded.

“Don’t worry, Ashe, your secret is safe with me,” Sylvain spoke, making a zipper motion over his lips with his fingers. “I’ll help you learn to dance.”

At that Ashe’s face lit up.

“Really?! Thank you!”

Sylvain grinned back.

“In fact, I’ll not only do that, but I’ll also make it my mission to help you get Ingrid’s attention! No one knows her better!”

Ashe’s excitement evaporated and his nerves returned.

“What? No! Please don’t!”

“Come, my apprentice. You have much to learn in the art of flirting. Though this is Ingrid so you don’t have far to go.”

“Please don’t…”

“But I must! We can’t let your love fester. ‘Bad things happen to those who ignore the goddess’ gift of love’ or so the legends go.”

Ashe sighed but nodded in understanding. “You don’t need to remind me of them. I’m very familiar with the details.”

\---

As the music came to a gradual halt, the dancers on the floor slowed.

“Wow, you really have gotten better since we first started,” Sylvain complimented Ashe when they parted. Adding some of his trademark absurdity, Sylvain bowed to his friend. “Thank you for the dance, Sir Ashe.”

“Sylvain stop it,” Ashe groaned, his face darkening once more. “Though I appreciate your kind words. Three weeks in the library for late night dance practices with you seems to have paid off.”

“Anything to help a fellow on his quest for-”

A quick hand over his mouth quieted Sylvain. His eyes widened from surprise until he heard from footsteps from behind.

“Ashe, Sylvain, there you are,” Ingrid’s cheery voice greeted the pair. “We were wondering where you two were.”

Sylvain craned his neck to see Ingrid in uncharacteristically feminine attire alongside a rather grumpy Felix.

Felix dressed not too different from his battlefield garments, complete with his sword at his side. While the fabric wasn’t nearly as thick nor the suit as loose, the general style of Felix was still very much present.

An itching at the back of his throat forced Sylvain to clear it, drawing attention to himself.

“Ah, Ingrid, you look quite lovely this evening! And Felix! I see you’re incapable of finding anything too different from your usual wardrobe. A sword, really?” Sylvain teased, earning a glare from his crush.

“You never know when you’ll need to defend yourself, especially amongst former enemies,” Felix disagreed. He did a once over of Sylvain, taking his time to appraise him.

Felix’s cold gaze sent a shiver down Sylvain’s spine and right to his traitorous crotch.

“Trying to get an idea for your next suit? I’m more than happy to provide tips for a friend.”

At that remark Felix scoffed. His gaze drifted back up and narrowed on Sylvain.

“As if.”

While Sylvain and Felix bickered, Ingrid walked over to Ashe. She too took in his outfit and wore a shy smile on her face.

“Hello, Ashe, enjoying the evening so far?” She asked casually, though the sweat on the back of her neck said a different story.

“Oh, uh, hi! Yes, it’s been quite pleasant so far,” Ashe replied, his voice almost cracking part of the way through. He almost choked on his next words until he saw Sylvain grinning back at him over Ingrid’s shoulder, giving him a thumbs up. The absurd expression on Sylvain’s face cleared Ashe of his anxiety for a moment and allowed him to cobble himself together.

“That’s good to hear. I’ve been struggling to get Felix to at least make it through a few songs without killing someone. Former Heron Cup champ and yet he still refuses to use his dance skills,” Ingrid joked, earning an ice cold glare from her friend.

“I see,” Ashe replied, unsure of how to proceed. His eyes caught Sylvain gesturing to the dancefloor with his face, making even more ridiculous looks. “Say, Ingrid, perhaps you’d be interested in a dance? With me, I mean. I admit I might not-”

Ashe’s voice died in his throat when he saw her expression light up.

“Of course! The next song should begin soon. Come quick!”

Ingrid grabbed his wrist with practiced strength and easily pulled him away, much like Sylvain did earlier.

Leaving the two boys alone, Sylvain and Felix departed the dancefloor for some nearby refreshments. When the song began, both boys watched with amused smiles as Ingrid took the lead in dancing with Ashe.

\---

Sylvain sat in a pleasant silence with Felix to his left munching on some meat while Ingrid ate a similar dish across from them. Unlike her usual enthusiastic self, Ingrid picked at the meat with a frown on her face. Her fork periodically clanged against the plate, causing Felix’s face to briefly furrow. The longer this went on, the more his face remained scrunched with annoyance.

“Will you cease your racket and finish your meal?!” Felix all but shouted at her, drawing some unwanted attention from nearby soldiers.

His words bounced off Ingrid as she focused intently on her dish. Yet she made no move to actually eat more.

“Say, what will you two do after the war?” Ingrid softly spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her question froze Sylvain mid bite but Felix only shot her another glare.

“Huh?” Sylvain replied dumbly, swallowing his half-chew food.

“You know, after we’re done fighting? Surely you’ve given it some thought. Enbarr is just around the corner.”

“Nope,” Sylvain lied with a smile, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth.

Despite Ingrid’s dull stare Sylvain focused on his food, and used it to quash any pesky flowers that tried to climb up his throat.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Ingrid sighed. “What about you, Felix? Do you intend to continue to run away from your duty?”

Felix exhaled a deep breath and swallowed the rest of his food, laying his silverware down with a decisive, metallic thud.

“Is that the source of your incessant noise? What I do after the war is none of your concern, but if you must know I do plan to return to clean up my father’s mess. I can’t leave the territory to its own fate.”

That answer earned wide-eyed expressions from Felix’s two friends.

“Seriously?” Sylvain spoke, the disbelief in his voice matching his expression.

Felix pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes turning to Sylvain. 

“What? Is it so hard to believe?”

Letting his façade drop, Sylvain bore a frown and nodded.

“A little bit, yes. What prompted this change of decision? I doubt it was a sudden sense of duty,” Ingrid commented.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Felix sighed again.

“No, it wasn’t a sense of duty or something equally absurd. I’m doing it because I believe it to be the right course of action. Nothing more,” he clarified. Felix didn’t miss the puzzled expressions Ingrid and Sylvain continued to send his way. “Quit leering. Fine, if you insist on pestering me then what about yourself, Ingrid? Going to marry a wealthy noble and restore your house?”

Ingrid’s eyes fell back to her mostly empty plate.

Where Sylvain expected to find the ever-present frown when they broached the topic, he instead found a tiny smile. Not much of smile, but definitely the beginnings of one.

“If you’d asked me yesterday or perhaps even five minutes ago I’d be inclined to say yes, but recently I’ve had a change of heart. Or rather, I’ve started listening to my heart.”

“What does that mean?” Sylvain wondered.

“It means I’m going to carve my own path. I always thought being a knight and saving House Galatea were mutually exclusive but perhaps there’s a way I can do both,” Ingrid explained, idly poking her leftovers.

Felix quirked an eyebrow. He spoke, “What’s with the change of attitude? I don’t believe either of our answers had anything to do with this.”

Ingrid shrugged, finally stabbing a piece of meat.

“You’re right but your certainty helped me resolve to my uncertainty. I resigned myself so long ago to my fate that I almost gave up on it. But a little outside perspective rekindled my thoughts. Ashe is surprisingly wise when the time calls for it.”

Felix and Sylvain exchanged brief glances before a smirk returned to Sylvain’s face, earning an eye roll from his crush.

“Ashe, eh?” Sylvain spoke in a knowing tone, immediately severing Ingrid from her thoughts.

Ingrid’s face turned a shade not unlike Sylvain’s hair.

“Stop right there, it’s not like that!” Ingrid curtly replied, doing absolutely nothing to remove Sylvain’s grin.

“But you want it to be…” Sylvain teased, poking his fork accusingly at her.

Ingrid hardened her expression.

“And what about you? Do you intend to finally marry some handpicked maiden by your father?”

The mirth faded from Sylvain’s smirk, replaced by his usual insincerity.

“Maybe, would that make you jealous?”

Sylvain missed the annoyed stare Felix shot his way, instead focusing on Ingrid. He watched her squint at him but the rise he hoped to get faded just as quick.

“No, I just pity you. The oldest, yet the last to grow up.”

Ingrid’s words cut right through Sylvain’s armor and hit his core. He realized his face must’ve dropped based on how Ingrid’s stern expression gave way to worry.

“Forever a child at heart,” Sylvain replied with a wink, trying to course correct.

“Always a fool,” Felix disagreed.

Sylvain felt his chest squeeze painfully at the curt reply. However it wasn’t Felix’s interjection nor his icy stare, but rather his tone. Laced with frustration and disappointment, it sent chills down Sylvain’s spine and clenched his heart.

When a flower tickled his esophagus, Sylvain quickly shoved another mouthful of food to suppress it. He swallowed it along with his shame. When did he grow used to eating blossoms? Sylvain didn’t know how much of his stomach was food or flowers.

Setting his fork down on his half-eaten plate, Sylvain stood up.

“You know me,” he grinned too widely at his friends.

Ingrid frowned at the acceptance of self-deprecation.

“Are you finished? You’ve hardly touched your meal,” she changed the subject once more. Her comment drew Felix’s eyes to the dish. He quirked an eyebrow, as if noticing for the first time.

“Yup, I’m stuffed. Gotta maintain my figure for my future wife and all,” Sylvain joked, earning a swift punch to the kidney from Felix.


	2. What is Love?

“Finally,” Felix commented, taking a bite of palm-sized snack. “She’s been making doe eyes at him all evening. You should’ve seen her while we were prancing around the floor.”

“Oh I did. Let me guess, Ingrid wanted your help in surveying the room?” Sylvain chuckled, grabbing another glass of red wine.

“Bingo. Dancing was less conspicuous than circling the room like a normal person according to her.”

Biting back another chuckle, Sylvain felt the flutter of a petal in his throat. He drowned it with a large swig of wine. It practically burned on the way down but it felt good and loosened the knot that was his stomach.

Felix quirked an eyebrow at the drink but refrained from commenting.

“Well I’m happy for them. I trained Ashe well,” Sylvain laughed, earning another questionable glance from Felix. “What? Who do you think taught him to dance? He should be thankful I insisted he learned how to lead and be lead.”

“I see. When we get the nuptials at least I’ll know who to blame for the inconvenience.”

Sylvain snorted at that.

“Really, Felix? Have you truly never thought about it? You’re the last one from our class who hasn’t sought my advice. Surely I can help you find a nice noble girl tonight,” Sylvain offered, despite the bile rising in his throat as he spoke.

Felix’s reaction was similar. His face soured and he wrinkled his nose.

“I’d sooner lick the Boar’s heel.”

The tightness in Sylvain’s chest relaxed.

“If that’s what you prefer I could help arrange that. A noble boy then?”

To Sylvain’s surprise, that actually got a look of shock from Felix. It was momentary but it certainly struck Felix in a way the other didn’t anticipate.

“No. Now let it go before I toss you to the harpies. They’re eyeing you up.”

Sylvain’s cheerful mood dampened at those words. He dared to glance over his shoulder to see several noble women chatting amongst themselves, definitely staring at him and likely Felix.

“If I go down I’m taking you with me. I’m sure one of them would kill to be Lady Fraldarius.”

“That or Lady Gautier, my boy!” A cheerful voice boomed from next to them, causing Sylvain to straighten up immediately. With a laugh like nails on a chalk board, Sylvain turned to see his father chuckling heartily. He had a glass in one hand and a woman in the other.

Sylvain did a once over of the woman, able to easily see the wrinkles and other signs of age despite her best attempts. Perhaps someone to keep his father’s bed warm at night.

“Hello, father,” Sylvain nodded curtly, his demeanor changing.

Felix frowned at the sudden change but nodded. “Margrave.”

“Duke Fraldarius, Sylvain, this is Edith. She hails from one of the war torn territories within the former Alliance,” Margrave Gautier introduced. “She was telling me about all the economic opportunity there is within the region, once it recovers of course!”

“I’m sure there is,” Sylvain echoed back hollowly.

“Quite!” Edith interjected. “Plenty of farmland to be sown and harvested, or traders who need protection from brigands who’d pay top coin for skilled Kingdom soldiers. I was informing the Margrave of the opportunities and nobles who’d… appreciate some young blood.”

At that she gestured to the pair in front of her.

“She’s right, you know,” Margrave Gautier concurred. “Two strapping, young war heroes from major houses. And crest bearers to boot! What more could one want?”

Sylvain hid his distaste of the topic with a practiced smile and small nod but Felix had no such decorum.

“Someone who appreciates the person and not the idea of them,” Felix replied, catching the two older nobles off guard. “Nor simply marrying for wealth or personal gain. If you could excuse me, I need to speak with his Majesty.”

Without waiting for a reply, Felix took off and left Sylvain to his fate.

“My, what a rude boy.” Edith commented, fanning herself with hand.

“He’s young but he’ll wizen up. It might take a while without his father to guide him but he’ll learn the ways of the world,” Margrave Gautier frowned, but pulled his hand back from Edith. “Now I must ask for some privacy for I have important matters to discuss with my son. I’ll catch up with you later, milady.”

Margrave Gautier punctuated that statement with a wink and lecherous smile, almost making Sylvain gag. If that act didn’t get him to throw up then the flowers threatening to come up his throat certainly would soon.

“Take care, Margrave,” Edith cooed as she wondered off into the crowd.

Sylvain’s dad watched her leave before turning his attention back to his son. “She might be a bit older but one can’t be too picky when they’re in the same boat.”

Sylvain shuddered at the thought.

“Thanks for that, dad.”

The margrave clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder and laughed heartily again.

“All in due time, my boy! Now, have you read my most recent letter? I’ve gotten quite a few generous offers to court you. I wasn’t lying when I said you were quite popular. Why, there’s this noble family in the Alliance that has quite the charming daughter that came with a rather hefty-”

Sylvain tuned out his dad and took a swig of his drink. His eyes trailed the path Felix carved through the crowd, easily finding his purple hair amongst the sea of strangers. He simply migrated across the room towards Caspar Von Bergliez of all people. Probably catching up with his old sparring buddy now that they weren’t at each other’s throats.

A familiar pain in Sylvain’s chest squeezed his heart and his lungs.

“-and that’s something to consider. Or perhaps you’d prefer a girl with some heft. If you catch my drift, eh, Sylvain? Sylvain? Are you even listening?”

Upon hearing his name Sylvain snapped out of his thoughts, turning to find his dad with a mildly annoyed expression on his face. Sylvain wanted to come clean, tell his dad he truly didn’t care for any of the girls here, but he didn’t have the strength. Especially with how out of breath he currently felt.

“Sorry, dad. I was checking out some others. To be honest, I’m not interested in some stranger.”

While Sylvain hoped that’d be the end of the discussion, his father saw it as an opportunity to latch on and continue.

“Oh, so you are finally considering it! Then how about one of your former classmates. I once had an offer from House Galatea and you do know-”

Sylvain spun on his heels and shook his head.

“Absolutely not!”

Margrave Gautier paused and squinted at his son.

“Excuse me?”

Realizing how vehemently opposed he sounded, Sylvain struggled to find an excuse.

“Sh-she’s already taken.”

Sylvain gestured to the dancefloor where both men spotted Ingrid and Ashe happily dancing amongst the nobles.

“Is that Lonato’s adopted son? Please, a quick word with her father and that boy will never come near her again! She needs someone with money and a reputable family,” Margrave Gautier decided, earning a glare from Sylvain.

“Don’t.”

Margrave Gautier turned to see an uncharacteristically cold look in Sylvain’s eyes.

“Oh, what’s this? Is there something more?”

“They actually like each other. Don’t interfere with that.”

At that Sylvain’s father frowned.

“And? Give it time and she’ll fall for someone else. Love is a fickle mistress.”

Sylvain grit his teeth at those words but restrained himself once more. His expression softened and his practiced smile returned.

“That doesn’t mean we need to speed it along, even if that is the case.”

“Sylvain, my boy, love isn’t the most important thing out there. Everyone has a duty to their family, to preserving their legacy, and ensuring the best possible future for their descendants. Ingrid, yourself, and even the Duke have important responsibilities resting on your shoulders.”

Sylvain bristled at those words, his composure slipping. While he could handle remarks about himself he wouldn’t stand idly by while his father insulted his closest friends. How many times had he heard some variation of this speech?

“Responsibility? Duty? We just gave five of our best years to reunite the land and end this war. Ingrid and Felix should be able to marry whoever they want and choose their own future.”

Margrave Gautier raised an eyebrow at that statement, taking a moment to finish his drink and set it down on the empty tray of a passing servant.

“They should choose the future which benefits their families and their lands, that is the foundation of our society. It is our duties as nobles to protect those beneath us and preserve our way of life.”

Sylvain copied his dad and finished his drink, the glass still in his grasp.

“Then perhaps it’s time for a new way of life.”

“Come again?” Sylvain’s father narrowed his eyes his son. “I must be going deaf in my older age because I thought I heard my own son utter treasonous words.”

Sylvain folded his arms behind his head, keeping his seemingly happy façade.

“Treasonous? No need to be so dramatic. I’m just pointing out that the current system is what lead to this bloody war. I definitely don’t agree with the late Emperor’s methods but I won’t contest her argument having some truth to it.”

Margrave Gautier crossed his arms and puffed up his chest.

“Banish those ludicrous thoughts at once! I will not have my own son insult the memory of the fallen!” Sylvain’s father growled lowly. “How can you be so ungrateful for a world that treasures every aspect of your being?”

Twirling his empty glass in his hand, Sylvain focused on how the light glinted off the cup. Despite his calm exterior his blood began to boil again. And the flowers prickled at his throat.

“How shameful of me. I’m sorry for being ungrateful to the world that abandons those born without crests. A world that judges one before they’re given a chance to prove themselves, a world that revolves around the privileged few who happened to be born lucky,” Sylvain replied, his response heavily laced with sarcasm. “What a world.”

\---

“A-are you sure?” Annette asked, frowning at the floor.

Leaning back against the wall, Sylvain folded his hands behind his head. He wore an easy smile.

“You’re cute even when you’re worried, you know that?” Sylvain teased, causing Annette to puff up her cheeks.

“Sylvain, I’m serious!” Annette tried to glare but it barely came across as threatening. “Will something like that really work?”

“Sweet Annette, just who do you think you’re talking to?” Sylvain laughed. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s how to get to girls. Just follow my instructions and you’ll succeed. I stake my reputation on it!”

Annette furrowed her brow, eventually nodding.

“Y-you’re right. Thanks.”

Standing up, Annette walked for the exit.

“No problem, go get her.”

Sylvain remained seated on his bed as a now blushing Annette took her leave.

“You know, Sylvain, you’re easier to talk to about this than I thought,” Annette stopped to give him one of her usual smiles. “Oh, and your room smells lovely! Almost like roses.”

Stiffening at that comment, Annette didn’t seem to notice Sylvain’s reaction as he abruptly got up from his bed.

“What can I say? I like to be presentable at all times.”

Annette continued her journey into the hallway. She turned to wave goodbye, but stopped halfway.

Quirking an eyebrow, Sylvain walked to his door and followed Annette’s gaze to a small pile of untouched plates outside of Felix’s room. Sylvain’s chest tightened at the sad sight.

“I’m worried about him,” Annette broke the silence. “It’s only been a few days but I haven’t seen him since his father…”

A loud sniffle drew Sylvain’s attention back to Annette.

“Tears have no place on a face as pretty as yours, Annette. Go see Mercie. I’ll take care of Felix,” Sylvain spoke, offering Annette a handkerchief.

Annette gently tapped the soft fabric against the water brimming on her eyes. “Okay, please help him.”

Waiting for Annette to leave, Sylvain watched her go. He pressed his lips together as he thought about the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. A bittersweet class reunion that had heavy casualties on all sides, but especially so for Felix.

A new sensation tickled Sylvain’s throat, one he was quickly getting used to. He swallowed the petal trying to escape him and walked over to Felix’s door. He knocked twice.

“Hey Felix, can I come in?”

A few muffled curses brought a tiny smirk to Sylvain’s face. After some loud clanging he got a reply.

“Go ahead,” Felix’s muffled voice replied.

Sylvain crackled open the door, surveying the room before entering. Unlike his room, the window was shut and lit candles provided ambient light. At least three sticks were completely melted into Felix’s desk.

Felix sat on his bed with a sword in hand, pressing it against a whetstone. On the floor around him were piles of weapons. Some were neatly stacked, while and even bigger laid strewn in a mess.

“Hey,” Sylvain greeted again, stepping inside. He found an unoccupied spot on the floor and leaned against the wall.

“What do you want? Checking up on me like everyone else?” Felix wondered, an accusatory edge to the questions. It sharpened his words but that did little to faze his childhood friend.

Shrugging his shoulders, Sylvain gave a wry smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just haven’t seen ya in a while,” Sylvain half-lied.

Felix paused, not breaking his trance on his weapon.

“Well, here I am.”

As soon as Felix resumed his menial task, Sylvain interrupted it.

“Wanna go train?” Sylvain offered, causing Felix to drop the sword with a loud clatter.

“ _What?!_

Felix narrowed his eyes at Sylvain suspiciously, tilting his head slightly.

“Let’s go train.”

“Who are you and what did you do with Sylvain?”

Sylvain snorted at the thought.

“I’m me and I’m right here. I just haven’t had a good practice in a while so I thought I’d ask.”

Furrowing his brow, Felix studied Sylvain with a careful eye. Setting the whetstone down, he reached for another blade.

“It’s late out.”

“When has that ever stopped you? Just means we got the place to ourselves.”

Felix unsheathed the blade, judging its edge for a moment.

“Fine, grab your lance.”

“I’ll use one of the training ones. I need to practice my form.”

Shaking his head, Felix followed Sylvain out the door and to the arena. They passed a few other soldiers but none paid them any acknowledgement. 

Darkness greeted them when they entered, but it was dashed with a few quick fire spells from Sylvain. He effortlessly lit the braziers.

A comfortable silence hung over the two as Felix walked to one side while Sylvain grabbed an iron lance and stood across from his childhood friend. Both readied themselves for the fight, taking their usual fighting stances.

The faint echo of metal gently tapping against metal drew Sylvain’s attention to Felix’s blade. Even from his distance he could see the sword trembling in Felix’s grasp. Rather than comment on it, he struck first.  
His move was effortlessly blocked and the two dueled without interruption. Sylvain didn’t keep track of time but it felt like a pleasant eternity with the two trading attacks.

With Felix, it almost felt like a dance.

The longer they dueled, the more aggressive and sloppy Felix’s strikes became. He focused on brutality over skill when trying to break Sylvain’s defenses. His grunts evolved from sounding like he was tired to something more sorrowful.

In the flickering flames, Sylvain saw the tear streaks on Felix’s face but he made no comment. He remained focus on Felix’s flurry of blows, parrying the assault with ease.

The battle continued until the distinct sound of metal shattering signaled the end. Felix’s sword gave out before its wielder when it struck the lance at an awkward angle. The blade flew backwards and landed imbedded itself in the dirt.

Losing his footing, Felix toppled forward onto Sylvain.

Sylvain dropped his lance and caught Felix in his arms. Instead of letting him go, he hugged him.

Felix stiffened in his embrace, but soon relaxed as he finally broke down. He pressed his face into Sylvain’s shoulder to muffle his sobs. Several days of pent up emotion spilled out onto Sylvain’s shirt while Felix grasped at him. The two stood together until Felix’s noises quieted down.

When it felt like Felix was done, Sylvain broke the moment with comment.

“You know, if you’re going to grapple your opponent you should put more strength into it,” he whispered into Felix’s ear. He was rewarded with a swift kick to the shin, causing him to let go and jump back. “Ow!”

“Ass,” Felix spat back with a rare smile on his face. He had already regained his composure, though the shimmering streaks betrayed his tears.

It might’ve been a trick of the light but Sylvain thought he saw the faintest traces of a blush on Felix’s face.

“Well I’m not sure about you but I’m hungry. Late night dining hall raid?”

Rolling his eyes, Felix kept the endearing smile on his face.

“Sure,” Felix replied, turning to pick up the broken pieces of sword. “Oh, and Sylvain?”

Sylvain was already on his way to return the battered lance.

“Yes?”

Averting his gaze, Felix said, “Thank you.”

With a tiny, Sylvain gave him a thumbs up.

“Of course, that’s what friends are for Felix.”

Sylvain turned away before noticing Felix’s expression fall for a second.

“Yeah, friends…”

\---

Margrave stared at Sylvain with his jaw agape. To hear Sylvain speak in such a bold yet sarcastic manner stunned him into momentary silence.

“How dare you? You are among those privileged few whom the world trusts to lead it! In what world would I allow my heir to drag our proud name through mud to satisfy his lecherous needs? Do you think this behavior that you’ve flaunted so publically would be acceptable if you were not in possession of our ancient and glorious crest? I think not!”

Despite the anger seeping into the margrave’s tone, he kept his voice hushed as to not draw unwanted attention.

“Maybe a world where I got a brother who didn’t try to actively snuff out my life simply because he wasn’t born with something beyond his control?” Sylvain posited, gesticulating with his free hand.

“You’re upset about Miklan? He was a warped and twisted individual-”

“And who do you think is responsible for that? The little brother born with a crest? The father who disowned and ignored his own first born child? Or perhaps the world that actively encouraged this behavior?”

Gritting his teeth, Margrave closed the distance between himself and his son.

“Don’t mourn the loss of such a wretched creature.”

Sylvain narrowed his eyes but his lips remained a teasing smirk. Standing this close to his father, Sylvain was pretty sure his old man could see the darkness behind his mask but he contained himself.

“I don’t-” Sylvain began before a rush of wooziness fell over him. He stumbled but caught himself. “I don’t mourn the man Miklan became, only the idea of what could’ve been if circumstances were different.”

At that, a cough escaped Sylvain. He pressed hand over his mouth as he felt his throat burn. The unmistakable tang of a petal and blood hit his tongue.

“Never in all my years would I have expected to hear such filth from my own son! You ungrateful-!”

The Margrave’s reply fell short when Sylvain hunched over, a much louder cough overtaking him. Margrave Gautier paused while a few more coughs wracked his son, patiently waiting to chew him out. When Sylvain stood back up, one hand pressed against the wall for support, his father’s anger evaporated.

Blood dripped down the sides of Sylvain’s mouth, landing with tiny plop in the wineglass. A small pile of red and white roses filled the glass, floating in s small pool of blood.

“Some love may be fickle, but mine is not. If you could excuse me, I need to go freshen up,” Sylvain smiled, setting the glass down on a nearby table. He caught the expression of horror written on his dad’s face as he pushed by him. 

A wave of fear and worry washed over the Margrave as he processed what he was seeing.

“S-Sylvain!” He turned to get his son’s attention but the boy was too busy stumbling away. The Margrave’s gaze fell back to the wineglass full of flowers, a chill running down his spine.

Sylvain did his best to avoid people but he inevitably brushed shoulders with a few nobles. He received a few passing glares but none lingered long enough to notice his state. He reached the edge of the room before his lungs screamed for more air. Resting for a moment, he tried to take another step but stumbled into another person.

“What the- Sylvain? Oh my, are you alright?!” A familiar voice asked. The reaction seemed to have silenced the group around them.

Sylvain blinked and quickly realized he was holding onto Dimitri’s shoulder for support.

_Shit._

“Never been better…” Sylvain chuckled, blood still dripping from the edges of his mouth. He attempted to move again but another scratching at the back of his throat prevented him from moving the way he wanted. Instead another cough forced its way out of him and he splattered blood onto Dimitri’s shirt, complete with a few specs onto the new king’s cheek.

Dimitri went wide-eyed as he felt the warm liquid hit him. He glanced down in shock with his one good eye and saw a bloody rose at his feet.

“Sylvain,” the new king replied with disappointment in his tone.

Sylvain chuckled grimly as he found his strength escaping him.

“Sorry, I lied...”

With that, Sylvain’s eyes closed as he collapsed forward onto the King of Faerghus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Ingrid and Ashe fluff with a heaping of Sylvain's father being, well, a stereotypical noble. Also Sylvain proving he's more emotionally in touch with his friends than he leads people to believe!
> 
> As always all feedback is appreciated. Writing the dialogue between Sylvain and his father is always a treat and so is watching Felix letting his guard down periodically.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally decided to write some Hanahaki goodness with my favorite idiot. All the pairings will be making an appearance through the in between flashbacks and I can't wait for them. Everyone is so much fun to write. Sylvain's dad though... they're going to have words.
> 
> Anyways, let me know what you think and if you like where the story is going!


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